


Ordinary Secrets

by Malu_3 (Grainne)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Era, Drinking, Humor, M/M, Romance, Secrets, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grainne/pseuds/Malu_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin blames Queen Annis, Caerleon's mead, and the hat, in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordinary Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Camelittle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/gifts).



> Dearest Camelittle, congratulations on your triple bingo! I was tickled pink at the chance to create a prize for you. ;-) As you can see, the word count bloated far beyond the necessary, but I hope you will forgive me and enjoy a laugh or two at my take on your prompt.

Merlin blames Queen Annis, Caerleon's mead, and the hat, in that order.

~ * ~

_Monday_

"What's wrong with your face, boy? What are you up to?"

Merlin startles, looking up from his soup. "What? Nothing. Um, why? Is something wrong?"

Gaius levels him with a very familiar, very suspicious look. "You're _smiling._ "

"Am not." Merlin drops his spoon, shaking his head. "It's just…um…" Thinking fast, he winces and pats his belly. "Bit of wind, that's all. Now, if you'll excuse me, Arthur needs me for… a poetry lesson. And something about the state of his pillows. Yes, well, g'night."

~ * ~

_One week previous_

After five years, Merlin thinks himself well-versed in all of Arthur's noises, both natural and magically-induced, from the rudest belch to the softest sigh. His all-time favourite is Arthur's honest belly laugh, with the be-spelled donkey braying a close second, and he's never imagined there might be a sound more glorious than either of these. Then Arthur invites Queen Annis to Camelot for the feast of Imbolc. 

Merlin is made to wear his ridiculous ceremonial robes, monstrosity of a hat included, and play the fool because Arthur wants to make a good impression. Queen Annis turns out to have a fondness for strong drink – her men arrive ahead of her bearing several casks of eye-watering mead – and ribald entertainment that are only matched by her iron innards, sharp eye, and witty tongue. The festivities slide into the wee hours on a tide of toasts, humiliations, and innuendo, ending only when Annis has a quiet word with Merlin about packing the king off to bed before anyone notices the way he's staring.

At what or whom, Merlin doesn't know, but by this point he's a bit tipsy himself. Getting Arthur to bed becomes more of a bumbling mutual support venture, which ends with Merlin seriously misjudging the amount of force it takes to pull a boot off a prone, snoring, half-naked man.

He winds up sprawled half on top of Arthur, who wakes with a start. Then, far from bellowing his displeasure or trying to murder Merlin with a pillow, he convulses again, squirms and starts to _giggle_. The sound is rich and low at first, akin to a chuckle, but quickly rising to a higher pitch, becoming giddy and unrestrained, until he's gasping for air.

"Heh, Merlin, that… _hee_ that's… _aha, heh_ …stop!" he cries, thrashing an arm behind him.

Merlin's utterly bewildered at first, engaged as he is in trying to right himself without laying hands on the jiggling royal rump. Then Arthur rolls over, heaving him off with a wheezy cry of, "Oh gods, I… off, _off,_ Merlin, you great lummox, that _tickles._ "

He snatches up the offending "that" in question – which, as Merlin now sees, is the feathered hat, fallen off in the recent fray – and flings it across the room before rolling back onto his side, practically nose to nose, and gifting Merlin with the most stunning, bright-eyed smile he's ever seen. 

"Much better," Arthur says once he's regained his breath, clumsily patting Merlin's head. His smile fades a bit, a furrow developing between his brows. "D'you think Queen Annish had a good _hic_ time? That she reshpec…er, respects us?" He goes a bit cross-eyed, moving his hand down to prod at the embroidered dragon crest on Merlin's tunic. "Not _us_ ush, of course. I mean Cameliddle…er…lot. Camelillalot? Camel– "

"Camelot," Merlin cuts in, swallowing heavily as Arthur's hand comes to rest over his heart. "And yes. Very much so. Though not, perhaps, for my torch juggling or your prowess on the lute."

"I dunno though," Arthur says musingly, stroking Merlin's chest. He frowns, then lifts his gaze, meeting Merlin's eyes. "I sink…think, that is…that she _knows._ " 

Then before Merlin can ask what about, Arthur plants an ardent, sloppy kiss on one corner of his mouth, mumbles, "no more tickles now, prettyfish…else I'm gonna piss the bed," rolls over, and re-commences snoring like a pig.

~ * ~

_Tuesday_

"What's wrong, Merlin? And what's that hat ever done to you?"

Merlin startles, looking over his shoulder. "What? Nothing. Why would you say that?"

Gwen levels him with a very familiar, very suspicious look. "You're _smiling._ A whole lot like you did that one time you kept trying to murder – "

"Am not!" Merlin cuts in, flinging the hat to the back of the wardrobe and slamming the door. "It's just…um…" Thinking fast, he scowls at the wardrobe. "I think this thing's infested with moths. Now, if you'll excuse me, Arthur needs me for…polishing things. Speeches. Polishing his speeches. Yes, well, good day."

~ * ~

They never speak of it, of course. Not in so many words. But it keeps happening, with or without the aid of strong drink, until the point where Merlin mostly just blames the hat – or rather, he resents that he can no longer hate it as he used to. His life is complicated, after all, and he misses having one ordinary, inanimate thing that he can loathe unconditionally.

These days, the mere thought of that gaudy, moth-eaten monstrosity – let alone having to actually wear it – turns him into a hot mess who does things like grin at his soup, get erections during treaty signings, and worry about actually starting to glow from sheer contentment.

For once, he and Arthur have a secret that they share, and it's got nothing to do with warlocks or kings or any dragonish flimflam about destiny.

**Author's Note:**

> Created as a Merlin Writers Tropes Bingo prize for Camelittle, for the prompt: Merlin discovers that Arthur is very ticklish. 
> 
> I invite you to check out:  
> [Camelittle's Tropes Bingo fills](http://merlin-writers.livejournal.com/182688.html?thread=2287520#t2287520)   
> [The entire Tropes Bingo Collection here on AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/tropes_bingo/works)


End file.
